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“Have your parents talked to him?” I asked Hardin.
He shook his head. “They’re in—”
His eyes met mine. Held. “I know where they are.”
Oh shit. The perfect place. “Yeah.”
“Let’s go.”
We ran for the door, Nix and Miranski hot on our heels.
15
SAM
* * *
“Did you kill Erin Mills?” I asked, trying to turn away from him.
With a hand on my hip, he tugged me back flat on the bed, then frowned down at me. “What are you talking about?”
For the first time since I’d met him, he appeared at a loss. Completely confused.
“She was blonde,” I stated.
He considered and I realized he wasn’t thinking about getting my pants off me. He was going to rape me, I had no doubt, but I’d hold him off as long as possible.
“She was. Everywhere.”
I frowned. Then I understood.
“I fucked her. As you said, she’s my type and was wild in the sack, but I had no reason to kill her. She was only good to me alive. I’m not into necrophilia.”
I frowned. Freaked. He’d been with Erin, clearly had sex with her more than once.
“And Marion in HR,” I added.
“And Marion, and other blondes. More than I can count.”
“Then why are you doing this with me? I mean, they were willing.”
He smiled then.
“Right?” I asked, my voice squeaking.
“You want to talk about other women while I fuck you?”
“No, I—”
His hands went for the drawstring on my scrubs again, and I rolled away as best I could, pulled my knees back toward my chest.
“No,” I said. With my arms over my head, I had no leverage, but I wasn’t letting him do this. I was having an acute stress response—or fight-or-flight—and flight wasn’t happening.
He fought me, got ahold of my pants and tugged. The pants loosened, but I swung wildly with one leg and kicked him.
“You bitch,” he hissed, his eyes going scary. His muscles tensed. Tendons in his neck stood out.
“No!” I yelled. Fought.
